Page 29 of Soul to Possess

But I stood there, frozen, my cock throbbing and leaking precum, begging for release, begging to be buried deep inside her tight, wet cunt. My hands gripped the counter, knuckles white, as I stared at the sink, breathing like a fucking bull, my skin slick and flushed with lust. My heart pounded in my chest, my muscles tensed, and my cock ached with a need that was almost painful. I wanted to fuck her until she screamed, until she bled, until she was so full of my cum she couldn't take anymore.

My cock was a steel rod, throbbing with the effort it took not to storm back out there, grab her by the hair, bend her over, and fuck her into next week. She’d do it, too. She’d tremble and moan, but she wouldn’t say no. She loves being told what to do. She craves being possessed, used, and thrown away like a dirty little fuck toy.

God, the way she looked tonight. Curled up on that damn couch like she didn’t know she was already in the wolf’s den. Like she thought the danger was behind her—left on that fucking bus. She was wrong. The danger was me. I was the monster in the dark, and she was my prey. I wanted to pounce on her, to pin her down and make her scream my name as I took what was mine, as I claimed her, as I fucking ruined her.

I stepped under the cold spray, and it hit me like a fucking tsunami. My breath caught, muscles tensing, my cock aching and begging for her touch. But it wasn’t enough to douse the flames. Not even close. The water was like liquid ice on my burning skin, but it did little to quell the wildfire raging in my veins.

I wrapped one hand around my throbbing cock and squeezed, eyes closed, jaw clenched so tight I thought my teeth would shatter. I imagined the sound of her voice, breathy and desperate, when she said she wanted to belong to someone. The way her thighs pressed together subtly, like she thought I wouldn’t notice – when I got close, her nipples hardening and begging for my mouth. She was so fucking wet. I knew it. My fingers twitched, imagining sliding them down her belly, parting her legs, and sinking into her tight, wet heat. Not to hurt her—fuck no. To claim her, to make her mine, to ruin her for anyone else.

I leaned my head back, water cascading over my face, and I whispered, "Bluebell." Fuck, I wanted to taste her, to feel her wrap around me, to hear her scream my name. I wanted to own her, to control her, to make her my little cum dumpster.

She didn’t know what she was made for yet. But I did. I knew she was made for me. Made to be my little fuck doll, my plaything, my obsession. My personal little slut, my Bluebell.

And when she realized it—when she came apart for me the first time, trembling and screaming and begging for more—I’d make sure she never wanted to leave this place. Never want to leave me. I’d ruin her for any other man. I’d make her addicted to my cock, my touch, my control. She’d be my little cum dumpster, and she’d love every fucking second of it. She'd be so full of my seed she'd leak it for days.

I stroked myself harder, my palm slick from the water, hips jerking and rolling as I bit down on my own moan, imagining her lips wrapped around my cock, her eyes watering as she took me deep. Gennie. She was mine. My girl. My angel. My fucking obsession. My little whore, begging for my cum. My Bluebell.

I thought of her mouth, those plump, innocent lips parted in a soft gasp when I winked at her. The way her pupils dilated, her breath hitching when I teased her about Marvin and the bedroom. She wanted a man who could take care of her. Not some pussy, safe little bitch. She wanted someone capable of keeping her, of controlling her, of ruining her. Of making her beg for more. Of impregnating her and keeping her forever.

A deep, guttural growl tore out of my throat as I came, my hand clenching tighter, hot cum spilling out of me as the water hit my back in sheets. My other hand slammed into the wall with a dull thud, leaving a mark from the force. It wasn’t enough. Nothing was ever enough. Not until I had her. Not until I’d claimed her. Not until I’d made her mine in every fucking way possible.

Not until she broke for me. Not until she said please. Not until she begged for my cock, begged for me to knock her up and keep her forever, begged for me to never let her go.

I leaned forward, both palms now pressed to the tile, the spray drumming over my spine like a thousand tiny needles. I let the cold bite into me, let it seep deep into my bones. I stayed like that, panting and growling, the monster inside me fed—but not satisfied. Never satisfied.

Because now that I’d tasted her, even in passing—her laughter, her scent, her soft, aching silences—I wasn’t going to stop. I’d already decided. She’d never leave this place. Not unless it was in my arms. Or in a body bag. With my cum leaking out of her used, abused little cunt.

Chapter Fourteen

I crept down the hall, my heart hammering, each beat echoing the throb between my thighs. The house was too quiet, too still, and I could feel his presence lurking somewhere within these walls, a dark, menacing shadow that sent my nerves into overdrive. I had seen the way he looked at me, the raw, primal hunger in his eyes, and it left me feeling both terrified and oddly exhilarated.

Atticus. Just thinking his name sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of fear and unwanted anticipation that left me lightheaded. When he looked at me earlier with his gaze intense, predatory. It was as if he could see right through me, down to the darkest, most hidden parts of my soul. That absolutely nobody had ever seen. Despite knowing he was the bad guy, despite knowing I should be running far, far away, my body responded to him in ways that horrified me.

I gathered my clothes, my hands shaking as I clutched the fabric to my chest like a shield. I checked the hallway once more, ensuring the coast was clear before slipping into the bathroom. The lock clicked into place, sealing me inside, and I let out a shaky breath, leaning against the door as if that could keep him out.

The bathroom was already steamy, the air thick and heavy with the scent of him—a musky, masculine smell that made my mouth water wafting in from his room. I turned the water on, cranking the dial to the hottest setting. The pipes groaned in protest, and I could feel the heat radiating from the showerhead, promising a scalding embrace. I stepped out of my clothes, letting them fall to the floor, and entered the shower, the water cascading over my body like a torrent of liquid fire.

My skin turned pink, then red, the heat searing me, awakening every nerve ending. My nipples beaded, hardening into tight, aching buds, and I couldn't help but touch them, rolling them between my fingers, imagining it was Atticus's mouth on me, his teeth nipping, his tongue swirling. I bit my lip to suppress a moan, my body already throbbing with a need I both craved and despised.Stop. Don’t do this.I tried to stop my thoughts, to no avail.

The steam billowed around me, cloaking me in a thick, hot fog, and I could feel the tension coiling in my belly, the need building like a storm. I leaned my forehead against the cool tiles, taking deep, ragged breaths, trying to calm the inferno raging within me. But the images that flashed through my mind unbidden were far from calming.

Atticus, his eyes dark and intense, storming through the door, his gaze locking onto mine. Crossing the room in two strides, his hands gripping my hips, lifting me effortlessly, and slamming me against the wall. His cock, hard and insistent, pressing against my entrance, and I whimpered, my body aching for him to fill me, to claim me, to make me his despite the voice in my head screaming that I shouldn't want this, that I should be running to Marvin, to safety.

"Atticus," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the roar of the water. "Please."

In my fantasy, he didn't make me wait. He drove into me, his cock stretching me wide, filling me so completely that I could feel him in every fiber of my being. I could hear his breath, ragged and desperate, his teeth grazing my neck as he marked me, claimed me as his own. His hands would be rough, demanding, owning every inch of my body, and I hated that I loved the thought of it, my stomach rolling while my body betrayed me.

My hand wandered down my stomach, hovering over my mound, and I could feel the heat radiating from my core, the wetness coating my thighs. I dipped my fingers lower, parting my folds, and I was soaking, my clit throbbing, begging for attention. I circled it slowly, imagining it was Atticus's tongue on me, his fingers inside me, pumping in and out, building me higher and higher.

I bit my lip, stifling a cry as I slid two fingers inside, my palm pressing against my clit, mimicking the movements of my fantasy. I was so tight, so wet, and imagined I could feel every ridge, every vein of his cock as he pounded into me, his hips slapping against mine, his balls hitting my ass with each thrust. I could feel the sting of his hand on my flesh, the sharp bite of pain that only served to heighten my pleasure, to make me crave more.

"Little girl," I heard him growl in my mind, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "You're mine. Every fucking inch of you is mine. You belong to me, and I'm going to ruin you for any other man. I'm going to take you against your will, make you scream, make you beg for more. Don’t bother saying no, I’m not going to listen."

I moaned, the sound echoing off the tiles, my body shaking as I fucked myself harder, faster, chasing the release that was just out of reach. I could feel his hands on me, his mouth on me, his cock inside me, and I was lost, utterly consumed by the fantasy, by the need, by him. I hated that my body responded this way, that I craved the dark, twisted things he made me feel. I should be thinking of Marvin, of his kind eyes and gentle touch, of the safe, quiet life he offered me. But all I could think about was Atticus, about the way he made me feel alive, about the way he made me want to sin.

I slid a third finger inside, stretching myself, imagining it was his thick cock forcing its way into me, taking what hewanted, what he needed. I could feel the nasty, depraved side of me emerging, the part that wanted him to use me, to abuse me, to make me his dirty little secret. I wanted him to bend me over, to pull my hair, to slap my ass, to mark me as his property. I wanted him to take me against my will, to make me scream and beg for mercy, and then beg for more.

"I'm close, Atticus," I panted, my body trembling, my muscles coiling tight. "So close. Make me come. Please, make me come. Take me, use me, make me your dirty little whore."

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